


Nightmares

by Emdee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Slash, Slash, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emdee/pseuds/Emdee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reassured that his son was in bed, was sleeping, was safe, the Sheriff was about to close the door when he heard it. A whimper. A barely there noise. A noise he wouldn't have heard if the door had been closed.<br/>It took several seconds for his sleepy brain to recognize the signs of a nightmare.<br/>And then, he realized, it was logical, wasn't it? After the hostage situation at the police station, he shouldn't have believed his son when he told him he was fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he realized his left leg was shaking and consciously stopped it. He would say his body reaction was due to all the time he spent with Stiles, but... It couldn't be true. He barely spent any time at all with Stiles lately.

Except when he found him on crime scenes. Except when they were trying to resolve murders. Except when they were held at gunpoint by crazy teenagers. And how had his son become involved in all this?

He sighed and thought about that half-full bottle of whisky in the cabinet. Except, when he had been requested to take leave for an undetermined period of time, he had promised to himself not to drink. He had seen too many ugly things to tempt faith this way.

So he had taken to running and gardening.

\- and with the number of cops killed last week, he would probably be called in soon -

He threw a last longing look at the alcohol cabinet - five dead police officers, five uncalled for deaths, five too many - and tried to focus back on his book.

Words blurred under his eyes so he finally closed the book and threw it on the coffee table. He took a couple of minutes to rest his eyes before pushing himself to his feet. Time to go to sleep.

He followed his routine: check all the doors are closed, go to his room, undress, go to the bathroom, brush his teeth. And so here he was, closing the bathroom door, in his underwear, ready to go to bed. He hadn't had the compulsion to check on his son for many years now, but today... Today he had not seen Stiles, not even in passing, and he suddenly couldn't go to sleep without seeing him sleeping first.

His son would probably call it an invasion of privacy, but...

Shaking his head, he tiptoed to Stiles' bedroom and just cracked his door open enough to have a good view of the bed.

Reassured that his son was in bed, was sleeping, was safe, he was about to close the door when he heard it. A whimper. A barely there noise. A noise he wouldn't have heard if the door had been closed.

It took several seconds for his sleepy brain to recognize the signs of a nightmare.

And then, he realized, it was logical, wasn't it? After the hostage situation at the police station, he shouldn't have believed his son when he told him he was fine. It would have been strange for a teenager not to be the slightest bit disturbed after having seen five bloody corpses, five dead men, most of whom he had known all his life.

With that in mind, it was not so much a choice to enter his son's room but a necessary step. He sat next to Stiles on his bed and tried to chase the nightmares away by simply talking. That technique worked on his kid when it had been his mum doing it back then. But not anymore. Or not with him.

So he shook him, gently at first, then with more force, until Stiles startled awake.

For a long moment, there were only terror and desperation in his son's eyes as they looked at him in the midst of a nightmare. Then, slowly, oh so slowly, his son woke up. And the emotions in his eyes took so much time to disappear... Except not. They did not disappear, per se, but got slowly hidden.

Oh, God.

"Dad..."

The voice was scratchy and broke his heart.

"Everything is fine, son, go back to sleep."

"'kay..."

And if he stayed a little while longer, well, no one needed to know.

 

oOo

The following night, he had been called back to the police office, and let's say they were severely understaffed.

He came back home after a seventeen hours long shift and went directly to bed.

 

oOo

 

It was after midnight when he came back home the following day. He dropped his keys on the counter near the entrance door, put his gun in the safe and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He was dead tired. He would stay downstairs just a couple of minutes, just the time to wind down from the long day at work.

He sat down on the couch, the only light in the room coming from a street lamp - the curtains were not drawn - and he closed his eyes.

He just needed a moment.

God, the police station felt so empty.

He did not think, not really. His eyes were closed and he was concentrated on his breathing. So he was wholly unprepared when he heard the first scream. The voice looked like Stiles'. His son was screaming.

He was up on his feet and running upstairs before his brain even registered it. Before he had the time to retrieve his gun.

Fuck, Stiles was screaming, and couldn't he - they - get a break?

The door made a loud noise when he tore it open - the 'bang' reverberating in the empty silence of the house - but he couldn't see anything. The room was empty except for Stiles. Thrashing in his bed.

In the midst of a nightmare.

Oh, God.

He didn't wait, he didn't think, he just ran to his son's bedside and shook him awake. But even when his eyes opened, Stiles kept thrashing, kept repeating 'no' and 'let me go'. Kept begging for his life.

He didn't think, couldn't process, but he took Stiles in his arms, Stiles' trapped in his and hugged him until he felt him go limp.

"Daddy..."

The Sheriff silently slipped under the covers and took his son in his arms. Stiles didn't fall back asleep, and neither did he. Even though, they didn't talk, hiding themselves in the silence as the night slowly passed.

 

oOo

The day after that, he was home at 9 p.m. He ate with Stiles and they watched tv together, pretending. Pretending everything was alright.

When Stiles bid him goodnight, his smile was hard to come even though he dropped a kiss in his son's hair.

When no noise came from upstairs, he got up from the couch and went to the kitchen. Poured himself a glass of water. And waited.

When the first scream came, he couldn't say it didn't surprise him. But even though he expected it, he couldn't be ready. Could never be ready for it.

He ran up the stairs.

 

oOo

 

The next night, he did not manage to make it home before 4 a.m. - worried parents who had lost their kid. Their son had just wanted to go to the park and had gotten lost on the way - which was a good thing. The number of bloody crimes had risen so much lately that it was definitely a good day of work, seeing as they had found the kid healthy and safe, his parents more traumatized by the whole thing than the child.

But it meant that he had not been there when Stiles had his first nightmare - that he had not been there even though he knew his kid needed him. God, it was no surprise that Stiles didn’t tell him anything any more, seeing how unreliable Stiles had to think he was.

He locked his gun in the cabinet and went to change his clothes. When he left the bathroom, ready to go to bed, he stopped in front of Stiles’ bedroom, listening - for anything, but hoping for a sign that his kid was alright.

He stood there for a long time, his hand hovering above the doorknob.

Then he deeply sighed and went to bed, leaving his door wide open. If his kid needed him, he would wake up - even though he hadn’t been there when Stiles had, without a doubt, needed him earlier.

 

oOo

 

The slight noise of steps near him woke him up with a start. The sheriff opened his eyes and had to blink a couple of times before smiling at his son.

"You okay, kid?"

Even if he had slept - he glanced at his alarm clock, 7 a.m. - less than three hours, his first thought was and always would be for his son.

"Yeah, dad, don’t worry. I’ll have breakfast and I’m going to school. Do you need anything?"

And now that he was paying more attention, it was obvious that Stiles did not sleep well. He had dark circles under his eyes and was even more fidgety than usual - as if his limbs twitched not because of his ADD but because he was trying, again and again and again, to stay awake.

"No, I’m... I’m good kiddo."

Stiles smiled at him before nearly silently closing his door. God.

His throat closed down as he stopped trying to talk - to say I’m sorry, and I love you, and I should have been there yesterday night.

Without surprise, he did not manage to fall back asleep.

 

oOo

The next night - and his life was no longer counted in days or hours or anything approaching ordinary, but in the number of nightmares he was there to stop and in the number of nightmares he was not there for - he arrived home just before 11 p.m.

He called out for his son but did not get any answers - was Stiles already asleep?

He only took the time to lock his gun in the cabinet before climbing the stairs two by two.

Like the day before, he stopped in front of his son’s bedroom and waited.

It took a moment for his ears to get used to the quiet, but then he heard it. Stiles talking - on the phone? Yeah, probably, he could not hear another voice.

Five more heartbeats and he was sufficiently used to the silence to hear words and make sense of whole sentences.

"Just, talk to me a bit more, please? I don’t want to... but I can’t... I..."

Silence, and his heart hurt in his chest - nothing he wasn’t used to now - as he kept on listening to his son speaking on the phone.

"Yeah, now I’m sure you’re making fun of me. You talking is already a big deal - and we talk about, you know, research and stuff, so you cracking a joke? That’s just impossible."

He stayed there a while longer, not paying attention to the words but letting his son’s voice wash over him.

Obviously, Stiles had found another way to deal with his nightmares. Another way that did not involve relying on him.

He smiled, bittersweet, and retreated downstairs.

And got woken up, hours later, as Stiles had another nightmare.

 

oOo

 

The next night, once again, he did not make it home until late - very late. He had briefly called Stiles to tell him so and had tried to make light conversations - kind of like Stiles had been doing with whoever it was at the other end of the phone the night before - but Stiles had not seemed overtly interested in doing so.

After a brief terse exchange, he had hung up, feeling guilty all over again.

Could it be possible that Stiles had done all he had - kidnapping Jackson, showing up at crime scenes, etc. - in order to get a bit of attention?

God, if it was so, how could he blame him?

His deputy called him and he put his phone back in his pocket. He went back to work.

 

oOo

The next night, he had a day off and had stayed at home the whole day. Stiles had gone to school and come back after practice, smiling and bouncing, cheery and so fake.

They had talked about anything and nothing - Stiles cooking for them in order to stop him from doing so, Stiles drawing up the shopping list to make sure he didn’t buy anything greasy or bad for his health, Stiles babbling about lacrosse and Scott.

Stiles trying to make it all seem normal.

And the Sheriff let him, once again, all the while trying to figure out how to talk about the nightmares, about maybe going to counseling.

And then they sat in front of the tv, putting on a game that neither one of them really watched.

Then, finally, the Sheriff took a deep breath, grabbed the remote to turn down the sound and turned to his son, intent on doing this for real. He was the adult here, and he had to do something.

"Stiles, I..."

And Stiles stopped in the middle of munching on his crisps - yeah, eating healthy food obviously only applied to him and not to his ‘still growing teenager needing lots and lots of calories’.

"I know Dad, I... it’s okay, right? I’m... I’m going to the counselor at school and I’m... I’m managing. I’m talking to someone else and that’s helping too. I just... I’m sorry but..."

Okay, okay, they didn’t need to talk about it if all his son was going to do was saying he was ‘sorry’ (and sorry for what? His dad not being able to take care of him?).

"Shhh, it’s going to be alright kiddo, okay? I promise."

He hugged his son and rearranged them on the sofa until Stiles was half-lying on top of him. After that, they didn’t talk anymore, just like neither of them went upstairs this night to sleep.

 

oOo

 

For a couple of nights following their dad/son bonding on the couch, he did not hear any screams coming from Stiles’ bedroom. Stiles even appeared to get better, more rested.

At first reassured, the Sheriff became more and more anxious and suspicious as he still did not dare to close his door at night.

Three nights later, he came back home late once again, around 2 a.m., and followed his night time routine before silently walking to his son’s bedroom door. There, he started listening intently for any noise, any sign of disturbance.

His routine might be slightly creepy, but he just barely managed not to go sleeping next to Stiles, so sue him.

He stayed there for five, ten, fifteen minutes and no noise disturbed the quiet house.

Until he heard it, a slight whimper, a barely there noise of distress.

Not paying attention to anything else anymore, he barged inside the room, ready to wake his son up and force him to come sleeping next to him on his bed.

So it took him probably longer than it should have to realize that his son was not alone... that someone was laying next to his son, whispering nonsense. That Stiles was obviously quieting down, his frown disappearing and his body relaxing.

That his wife’s technique to reassure their son - a quiet voice and a barely there caress - was working. That this person managed to do what he obviously could not do.

That this person was Derek Hale.

That Derek Hale was sleeping next to his son, touching him and talking to him as if they were very close.

That...

Oh God.

How did he manage to miss that too?

When Derek Hale - Derek fucking Hale - shushed him, he just stayed there, frozen, not thinking, not moving, not...

He looked at his son, at his peaceful expression and just released his breath, happy and angry, reassured and concerned.

Only Stiles.

He looked at Derek, signaled him to join him downstairs, and left his son’s bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him.

 

oOo

 

When Derek joined him, fifteen minutes later, he had stopped shaking and had managed to school his features into something more appropriate.

He glared at him until Derek dropped his gaze, probably as ill at ease as he was.

"Let me lay down the rules. The slightest sign that something that I would not approve of is going on - and believe me, the list is long - and I will make sure that whatever charges I come up with will stick this time. I will send you to prison for so long that you will never see Stiles again. The slightest sign that Stiles is hurt, and I promise you, you’ll wish that I had just sent you to prison for the rest of your life. Are we clear?"

There was a moment of silence, then two. Then Derek looked at him straight in the eyes and nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now leave my sight before I start regretting even more my decision."

The shadow of a smile played on Derek’s lips as he nodded once again. Then he left - not towards the entrance door but towards the stairs.

Oh, God.

The Sheriff let himself fall down on a chair and stayed there a long while. How could he blame his son to have found help elsewhere when his own dad had not been available? And seeing the level of trust Stiles had obviously placed in Derek - sleeping next to him, being soothed by his voice - it was not something that would go away if he ordered it so.

He buried his face in his hands and silently began crying.

There were a lot of things they did not talk about in this house - Stiles’ mother, his job, Stiles’ ADD - but this, it would not become one of them.

He could - yes, he could - accept his son’s... relationship with Derek. But he would be damned if he let anything or anyone hurt Stiles even more than he already was. So it would be awkward conversations and awkward moments but this - this - he would not let pass.

Something he should have probably done a lot sooner.

He took a deep breath and went to his room, already planning the next family meal - where there would be three people attending, and not two.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, English is not my first language, so please let me know if you see mistakes so I can fix them.  
> As for the content of the story, I kind of thought they went over Stiles' trauma (well, everybody's trauma) quite quickly. That, and even though I love the Sheriff, I find it odd that he doesn't try harder to find out the reason behind his son's strange behavior...


End file.
